


Gimme Some Truth

by MoodyAquarius



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Comforting, Confession, Dean gets jealous of Hannah aww, Destiel - Freeform, First Kiss, Fluff, Ghoul, Jealousy, M/M, Season 10 time period, hurt!Dean, post-demon!Dean, turns out fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2573984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoodyAquarius/pseuds/MoodyAquarius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets hurt on a hunt, Cas saves him and coddles. Dean is jealous of Hannah. </p><p>Idea from ElvisRose! </p><p>Enjoyy:)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gimme Some Truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElvisRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElvisRose/gifts).



“I’m sure whatever it is you saw is not the strangest thing we’ve ever heard, ma’am,” Dean narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, looking over the woman. Her face gave evidence to the fact that she was probably facing her early sixties, along with that god awful sweater she was wearing. Her cheeks were red, her face twisted in worry and fear. Dean could see his words hadn’t done much to encourage her. 

Luckily Sam chimed in, “Mrs. Penhauser, you can tell us what you think you saw. All of this is confidential.” He worked the puppy eye magic he’d perfected years ago. She loosened a bit, squirming in her loveseat and placing her hands over her lap. 

“Well, I thought…” she closed her eyes, “I thought I saw a man, or something like that, attacking Frank. I heard a horrible shrieking, which is why I looked out the window in the first place. I just… I can’t imagine what Lucille is going through right now.” She dabbed a tissue at her eye. 

“Could you give any more details? Anything else you remember?”

“No, just… horrible sounds. The ripping and tearing…” She began to trail off into tears. Both Sam and Dean straightened on the sofa, getting uncomfortable. 

Sam tried to sound reassuring, handing her another tissue, “It’ll be alright, Mrs. Penhouser.” They stood quickly and made a swift exit, not wanting to see the old lady be upset anymore. They walked down the stairs of the little house, to the street, both in matching suits, looking like the men in black. 

“I hate seeing old ladies cry like that.” Dean made a slightly disgusted, slightly empathetic face. “Makes me feel weird.” He shook it off a little. Sam nodded slightly in agreement. Once they reached the impala and slammed the doors shut, Dean brainstormed, “So she wasn’t much help.”

“Yeah, but the autopsy looked weird. Looked like all the main wounds were teeth marks. But… human teeth. Like somebody just went cannibal.” 

“Gross.” Dean reached at the radio, clicking a cassette tape back to start. Sam would have complained, had he not been overwhelmed by missing this. It felt strange how quickly everything got back to “normal”. They were hunting again, Dean was back to listening to his music and eating pie. It seemed almost right. They didn’t discuss the demon days much. 

Sam flipped through their dad’s journal, mostly just jogging his memory after not hunting for so long. Metallica thrummed throughout the car, Dean’s hands banging the bass riff against the steering wheel, making that stupid pouty lipped face of his he always made when he was concentrating. Sam grinned, stealing small glances, happy to see his brother appearing as his brother again. 

They drove back to the morgue, examining the body once again, and a page from the journal struck Sam, “Ghoul!” Dean flinched, 

“Where?!”

“No, no, I think… I think it’s a ghoul, Dean.” He looked at the ripping and biting on the old man’s neck and arms. Chunks of flesh were missing, mostly flesh. It had all the signs of a ghoul attack. 

“Alright, that’s easy!” Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder, then turned to leave. Sam threw him a glance, sliding the body back into the weird wall cabinet. He followed behind. 

……………….

“You’re not even gonna challenge me on this?”

“Nah, I think you’re right.”

Sam pursed his lips. “Is it that you think I’m right… or you just don’t care?” 

Dean pulled baby into park, shutting off her engine with a slow pull of the keys. He knew exactly what Sam was getting at. “Look, Sam, I’m just getting back into the hang of things alright? And I do think you’re right.”

“Are you sure that it’s not ju-”

“Don’t make it more than it is. Please. For once can we just have an easy hunt?” He met his brother’s eyes with earnest, actually looking like that’s really what he wanted. 

Sam raised his hands in surrender, “Fine. Alright.” 

They circled the car, popping the trunk and grabbing each of their machetes. Silver and holy water never worked on ghouls, you’ve got to lob their heads off. They’d tracked at least one ghoul to a homeless hideout, it made sense, feast on those that won’t be accounted for. They slid the machetes into their jackets, walking past piles of garbage and beardy old homeless people, with shopping carts and blankets piled high. They turned a corner, finding a warehouse door, which was weirdly open. 

They each got their hands ready on the handle of their blades, flipping on flashlights and walking into the dusty old place. High windows let blue moonlight stream in even streaks across the concrete floors. Garbage, newspaper and remnants of boxes and cardboard lay strewn across the expanse of the floor. A spiral staircase was off in the distance, leading up to catwalks of what formerly was probably offices and storage rooms. 

“Perfect place for a zombie movie.” Dean whispered near Sam. Sam rolled his eyes, suggesting, 

“I’ll take the stairs? You scope it out down here.”

“Okay, captain.” Dean muttered, wandering away from him. He kicked over piles of garbage, grimacing at the smell, had to be weeks old. Old scraps of food and fabric were strewn out, it looked like cats were infesting the place, smelly old cats. The place reeked. Dean put his sleeve over his nose, continuing to look around with his other hand gripped on the machete. Since he’d become human again his senses seemed even more intense and alert, like hitting a reset button. 

He wandered some more, getting bored, the warehouse was stupidly large. He checked his watch, deciding this wasn’t where the ghoul was. He called up to Sam, “I think we got the wrong place.” As soon as the words escaped his mouth a quick arm slashed out at him, cutting a huge gash along his face with what felt like a steak knife. He hollered out in pain, “Aaah!!” collapsing from the sudden blow. A second attack flashed like lightning at him, this time a digging blade in between his ribs. It just barely missed his heart. 

“Dean?!” Sam came bounding down the stairs, nearly falling over himself, by the time he got there the ghoul was gone and Dean was hunched over himself losing blood on the concrete floor. He rushed to his side, shining a flashlight on the wounds, “What the hell?”

“I was wrong.” Dean sputtered blood from his mouth, coughing and spitting it out across his shirt. He hissed in pain, each breath excruciating, “I think the damn thing p-punctured my l-lung.” He gripped his side, trying to hold the blood in and keep himself from moving. Sam got him off the ground, hurdling his arm over his shoulder, 

“Come on, we just… We just gotta make it to the car. Come on, Dean.” But his vision was fading fast, he could feel a thick wet liquid pooling in his boots. He looked down at himself, seeing his torso drenched in red, he cringed from the sight. That was too much blood, even for him. Each step was horrific, because the movement sent sharp pain up at his screaming, bleeding lung. 

Somehow, they made it to the car, Sam gently led him to the back seat and kicked it up over one hundred. He whirled around the town, trying to navigate to a hospital on his phone, almost crashing several times. “Dean! Dean, talk to me.” A weak cough sounded from the back seat. Sam was running out of options, not seeing a hospital and knowing they’d soon get pulled over if he kept driving like this, he called out, “Cas! Cas we need you!”

“Cas please, it’s Dean.” As he took his next breath a flutter of wings filled the car, the passenger seat now occupied. Sam gasped in relief, “Oh, god! Thank god, Cas, I-”

Suddenly Cas was in the backseat, he wedged himself under Dean, lying him out across his lap, cooing, “Dean,” Dean’s eyes reeled around, not seeing. Cas quickly touched his forehead, putting him to sleep, he then stopped the bleeding with a touch, sealing the wound back together. He closed his eyes and brought the tissue of his lung back together, mending it over itself and making it like new. 

Sam’s driving slowed to an acceptable speed, he was talking, words pouring out of his mouth, explaining how grateful he was, etc. but Cas tuned him out. He touched his long fingers to Dean’s face, sealing the gash, returning his face to it’s natural beauty. He gently stroked through his hair, soothing him and pulling his body closer to his own. He cuddled Dean’s newly healed face against his chest, watching peace fall over him in sleep. 

“Thank you Cas, jesus I don’t know what I’d-”

“How did this happen?” Cas cut him off with his serious monotone. 

“We were hunting, I don’t know how it snuck up on him like that. Maybe… he’s rusty.”

“And you let him hunt anyway?” Cas began to sound like a scolding mother. 

“I thought he would be fine, he insisted he needed to hunt, that he wanted to, I just..”

“And you listened to him?” Cas sighed, holding Dean’s body safe in his own arms, the only place he really trusted him to be safe. Sam didn’t have a response. He reached towards the radio, turning it up and trying to ignore the glare Cas was giving him in the rearview mirror. The ride to the bunker was a long one. 

…………………..

“When he wakes up will you tell me?”

“Yes.” Cas responded. Sam gave him a reassuring look, touching a hand to his shoulder. Cas stood, eyes shifting around, not knowing how to return the gesture. 

“I’ll, uh, I’ll be in the library.” 

“Yes.” They parted. Cas walked away down toward Dean’s room. He opened the door slowly, trying to be quiet. He got a foot in, and a pair of green eyes met his. He entered the rest of the way, shutting the door behind him. He stood against it. 

Dean blinked, “Hey Cas.” He looked confused, “When did you get here?”

Cas approached, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking him over, trying to see if he was alright. The wound on his face was healed, a slight redness but no sign of a scar. Cas would not allow that. “You don’t remember?”

“It’s foggy.” He rose a little to sit up against his pillows, which Cas reached out and fluffed for him. Dean gave him a look. Cas backed away, looking at the floor. Dean continued, weary, “I woke up sore is all. I remember we were hunting, so.. I mean I can put two and two together.”

“You were bleeding badly. Sam called for me. You’d been punctured in the lung, with at least four bruised ribs and your face was nearly sliced to the bone.” Cas’ eyebrows rose on his forehead, his lips settling, “How do you feel now?”

“Fine.” He rubbed a hand through his hair, then cast his eyes away, “Surprised you came.”

Cas’ eyebrows drew together, “What do you mean?”

Dean met his eyes for a second, with a look of hurt in them, and some other undetectable emotion, biting on his lip then muttering, “Thought you’d be too busy.” He scratched at his neck, refusing to meet Cas’ eyes. 

“Busy? Busy with what?” Cas cocked his head, truly not understanding what Dean was getting at. 

Dean grimaced, “Don’t play stupid.”

“Dean? I’m not-”

“Oh, sure. I know about it. It’s okay Cas, it’s not like you need to lie to me about it.”

Cas stared at him incredulously, “Dean, about what?”

Dean seemed to suddenly realize how he was acting, stopping for a moment and sucking in a breath. He closed his eyes then re-opened them, with a look of cavalier carelessness washed over his expression. “That angel girl, y’know. I get it.” 

Cas studied his face, asking in surprise, “Hannah?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean pursed his lips, still looking away. “Y’know I get it. You’re busy with her. That’s fine. I just wish you wouldn’t lie about it.” 

“Lie about it? Dean, I’m not lying about anything!” Cas’ voice jumped an octave at the strange accusations. “What do you think I’m lying about?”

That same strange look cut across Dean’s face, his eyes narrowing and getting fiery all of a sudden. His mouth seemed to fight against itself. He folded his arms in a faux gesture of strength and carelessness, “You guys are… y’know. I get it.” 

A weird silence hung in the air as Cas tried to understand him. He analyzed the gestures, the lack of eye contact, the insinuating. “You think Hannah and I are…?” He got it. “No, no Dean, we’re just friends. I’m not-”

Dean met his eyes briefly, asking in earnest, “You’re not?”

“No. I’m not romantically-” He cut himself off, narrowing his eyes at Dean. He opened his mouth, then felt his cheeks suddenly grow warm. “Dean… why are you asking me this?”

Dean then threw his glance away off to the far wall, shrugging and muttering, “No reason.” He put on a sudden mask, “I was just proud of you is all, for gettin’ laid.” 

“Dean I didn’t-”

“Okay. Nevermind.” He scratched at his arm, “Forget I said anything.” 

Cas cocked his head, questions filling his head, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He checked over Dean once more then left to inform Sam that he was awake. “Thanks Cas.” He nodded and sat in the library, staring at a notch on the wall and mulling over Dean’s interest in Hannah. 

………………

“I’m just mad the damn thing got away.” Dean grumbled around his beer, eyes returning to the television screen, some re-run of Doctor Sexy playing in the background. Sam was tracing lines over a map, trying to track the ghoul again. Cas sat on the couch, on the far left of Dean, who sprawled out much more leisurely than the angel would allow himself. He sat rigid and formal. 

“Dean would you turn that crap down?” Sam snapped from the kitchen table.

Dean snapped back, “Would you go in another room?” 

The younger Winchester sighed and gathered his things, grumbling and stomping off to the library. Once Sam was gone the room fell quiet, Cas was cautious not to interrupt Dean’s show, silently sitting, twiddling his thumbs. Dean finished his beer, setting it on the coffee table where his socked feet rested crossed over each other. It was a lazy, normal Sunday. They only got a handful of these, they were to be cherished. 

Cas snuck glances at Dean’s face, which was focused intently on the TV, watching the dramatic storyline play out. Once the show hit commercial break Dean moved to get up, Cas assumed to get another beer. He quickly interjected before Dean could leave the couch, “I’ll get it, Dean.”

Dean gave him a look, but sat back down, slowly saying, “Alright.” He watched Cas take his old glass and walk away to the kitchen, trench coat fluttering in his stride. Cas threw the old glass away, reaching into the fridge and grabbing a nice cold one. He stood there for a moment, the cool fridge air washing over him, touching his rosy cheeks. He thought about it a lot. He was going to say something, he had to. He had to ask Dean why he’d asked about Hannah, he couldn’t stand not knowing anymore. He took a deep breath, trying to let the cool air soothe him. He turned, taking a step and knocking right into Dean. 

They each jumped, gasping, “Sorry!” The beer dropped from Cas’ hand and shattered on the floor, soaking Dean’s socks and splattering against the angel’s black shoes. Cas tried to regain the breath that flew from him, gasping, 

“Dean, what are you-”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you… I just... “ He seemed to be searching for words, “I h-had to make sure you were getting the right kind of beer.” 

Cas bought it, nodding and huffing, “R-right.” 

They each knew the other was full of shit. Their eyes met. Cas’ lips parted to confront him, but Dean beat him to it. He shoved Cas up against the door of the fridge with the force of his kiss, grabbing his shoulders with rough hands and pinning him. Cas’ eyes popped wide, then slid shut, sinking into Dean’s warm lips, tasting the beer and sweetness, memorizing the feeling of his soft, yet hard, mouth. His lips were just as plump as they looked, smashing into his own with hot urgency. 

Cas had to break and gasp for air, reeling and feeling the back of his head touch the door, “Dean,” it came out as a prayer, as a plea, as a grateful sigh. His heart pounded at the way Dean’s hands were still clutched tight on the tan fabric of his coat, holding him in place hard wedged between the fridge and his body. Dean leaned in once more, stealing another slower, softer kiss. He pulled off too soon, 

“I had to know.” He licked his lips, tasting Cas on them and trying (and failing) to hide a budding grin playing at the corners of his mouth. Blue eyes searched his face, in awe at the distance, seeing even more of him in even better quality, he began to count the freckles splayed across his nose and cheeks. He saw each eyelash fanning out from his unreal green eyes. Dean waved a hand in front of him, joking, “Oh no, I broke the angel.” 

Cas hummed a low happy noise in his chest, smiling, “Do that again, please.” And he did, each of them acquainting themselves with the other’s mouth, exploring and learning the feeling. They searched for a way to make their jaws fit together just right, and when they did, tongue met tongue and a mutual sigh brimmed out of their throats. 

“Dean, this- this is why you asked about Hannah?”

Dean avoided his eyes, muttering and picking at the collar resting at Cas’ neck, “I don’t like the idea of that angel girl touching you.” Cas’ head was swimming. 

He grinned deeper, dimples touching his face, “And why not?”

Dean met that pair of yearning blue eyes. He made a cute, twisted face, “Because.”

“Because why?”

He shushed the angel with a kiss, forcing the questions to cease. “Because I said so.”


End file.
